Together
by Samuel Seabury
Summary: College AU. Best of friend or worst of enemies, Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson will always have strong feelings for each other. As they work together to figure them out, they also have to face the challenges of college life, but they know how they will do it: Together.
1. Roomates

**Hi guys, Samuel Seabury here with my first Hamilton Fanfic. It's Jamilton, so if that offends you, go away. This is me asking nicely, but if I have to be rude I will. Don't let it come to that. On a more friendly note, if it's in bold, assume it is an author's note. I probably wrote the start of a lyric without realizing it then finished it in bold. Also, can you assume the students are all the same age…**

 **Thank you to my amazing beta reader, Snowcrystal of Thunderclan, for joining me on this wonderful journey!**

 **Finally, I do not own Hamilton, but I do like it a lot. Does that count?**

 **Now, onto the story!**

* * *

I sit fidgeting in my chair as I watch people go around in a circle. I am starting College, and I sit in a dorm meeting, the first one for my dorm. We introduce ourselves, our age, our hometown, and our major. As the turn comes closer and closer to me, I don't grow nervous. I like that about me, that I never grow nervous because it allows me to speak my mind.

"Hello, my name is Alexander, Alexander Hamilton. I am 17 years old, I skipped a grade, and I am originally from Charlestown, Nevis. I am majoring in Law and Creative Writing," I say. I stop listening to the people going and I begin to wonder if I will meet my roommate here, as I know I will be with another boy. I'm at a dorm meeting for all the people in the dorm. I haven't gone to my dorm, instead, I will go there next.

"Hey Y'all, I'm Hercules Mulligan," say the next student. His voice has a slight Irish burr to it, but it's barely noticeable. "I'm majoring in Costume and Set Design. I am 18 years old and I am from Coleraine, in the UK."

"We know where Coleraine is, dumbass." The newest speaker is a southern male and just another in the crowd. I try to pick him out in the mass of people, but I can't.

"I'm just saying it for the people who don't know," says Hercules.

"They're at Princeton, of course, they know."

"Okay, okay." Hercules pacifies the southern man. I still don't know where he is. More people go, and I try to remember their names, but all I get is an art major named John Laurens and a Diplomat's son majoring in Law and French named Lafayette. He said his name was something long, but I can't remember the whole thing. I assume the southern man went before me because he doesn't go.

* * *

After the meeting, I walk to my dorm. I know it is number 154, so I go there. When I get there, I knock on the door.

"Hello," I say. "I am Alexander Hamilton."

"Hi, I know," comes the southern voice from the meeting. A tan man opens the door. "I was actually paying to the meeting."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I know where Coleraine is too," I say. He smirks at me and I feel relieved I managed to get off on the right foot with this man. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, if you want," he replies.

"That I do," I say elegantly, pulling a duffle bag behind me. It is red and has the words L.L. Bean on it. One zipper is clinking against the other from when I pulled it. He stares at it like it is the craziest thing he has seen.

"What?" I ask. I knew I packed too much, but I ask in an oblivious manner in case he isn't staring at the amount of stuff I have.

"Is that all your stuff?" he replies.

"Yeah, I know I overpacked," I trail off at the shake of his head.

"No, I mean, if I had used only those types of bags, I could have filled three," he says, looking at it incredulously. I smirk at his reaction. I take my eyes off him and look around the room. I see a TV set up and two couches facing it. I also see a small kitchen with a stove, dishwasher, and a microwave.

"Well, okay then. What's your name?" I wasn't paying attention to the meeting, so I ask him.

"Thomas Jefferson," he replies.

"Like the founding father?" I ask. Quickly I realize he wouldn't like that question more than I do when people ask me."Sorry, I get that question a lot too, because of Alexander Hamilton."

"It's okay," he responds. I smile at him, hoping there are no hard feelings. He smirks back at me, so I assume it is okay. After all, his smirk seems to be his favorite expression. "Do you want some help unpacking?"

"If you don't mind, that would be great," I say as I get to work. I look around and see that off of the main room there are three side doors, presumably one for each of us and a bathroom.

I look into one room and see it has already been filled with stuff. I assume it is Thomas' stuff. I quickly move into the next room. In it are one small bed and a desk. I get a cup from my bag and place it on the desk.

I place my clothes into one of the other two and my notebooks into what is now the only empty one. I place my pens into a small cup. I always write in pen, it's a cocky habit of mine because when I started writing I assumed I wouldn't have any mistakes. To be honest, even though I know I will have mistakes, I write with a pen to make sure I can at least try to not make mistakes, knowing it is harder to fix it in pen. Writing in pen keeps me grounded.

I leave out my most recent notebook and my first one so I can look them over. In my newest one, I have my favorite essays from my senior year, the ones I didn't rip out. I have a lot of space for my newest essays, but I might get a new notebook. After all, it's not every day someone starts college. In my first one, I keep all the letters I wish I had written to government officials and all the things I will do if I become a government official. That is one of my dream jobs, alongside being a journalist. I want to be one of those two jobs because they have the biggest effect on the public.

I look up to see Thomas still there, even though I have finished unpacking. I clear my throat and he looks up in fear and surprise. Even though it's quick, I don't miss the flash of alarm that shoots through him.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried about him. This is ridiculous, the way I already care so much about him, even when I only met him two hours ago.

"Bad memories associated with," he trails off but continues after a second. "That."

"With… me clearing my throat?" I ask, not just idly curious but because I am still worried about him, even if I was berating myself about that only a few seconds ago.

He nods but frowns, as if he is thinking about some bad memories. I return the action, worried I have lost the only friend I have. I look back at him and see he has begun to shake. I gather my courage and walk over to him. Laying one arm around his back, I place the other on his side, gently enough that if he were to try and shake me off, I wouldn't be clinging to hard.

"Sorry," he says. "I wish I could control my emotions."

"Trust me when I say controlling my emotions was a lesson I had to learn fast," I realize I am willing to reveal a bit of my past to Thomas, but maybe not yet. I am sure there will be a time for that, but I doubt when we just met is it. We don't talk much after that, instead, I work on another essay I really wish I had the nerve to send and he types something on the computer.

* * *

"What's your schedule?" I ask Thomas. He rummages around in his bag.

"Debate and Literature on Monday, Debate, and History on Tuesday, History and Law on Thursday, Law and Literature on Friday," he says. "What about you?"

"I've got the same Debate and Law classes as you, but I have Journalism Monday and Friday, Literature Tuesday and Thursday," I respond. He looks at me for a second.

"So we have Debate together tomorrow? You ready to go head to head?" He asks playfully.

"Bring it on man," I shoot at him. It's certainly not my best comeback, but I know I will need to save that one. I turn back to my essay.

My newest essay is against gerrymandering (Look it up, it's a really interesting topic), sometimes known as redistricting. I write about how it allows certain people to stay in power even though they are not the best choice or the choice the public wants, similar to the way American presidency runs on the electoral votes instead of the popular votes. I write about the way it keeps the older people from both parties in without letting the new people learn how to govern. I continue writing for a while, running on the glorious thing known as caffeine. When I finally finish it is almost 12:30, so I turn off my computer and go to my room. I normally go to sleep a bit later, but I don't want to look more gaunt than usual tomorrow because I have my first class.

* * *

Time skip to Monday morning because that is when Alexander has his first class:

When I wake up, the first thing I do is grab my phone and see what I have to do. I look at it and remember I have Debate and History today. I check the time. I still have about forty minutes 'til ten, when the class starts. I start to get my stuff together, grabbing a pen, some loose leaf paper, and the textbook Mr. Brown assigned to us. I look over some of the notes from my old debate classes. I know I can do this.

My phone rings and I realize I have new messages. One is from Martha Washington. She is very close to me, almost my adopted mother, and her husband George is just as great about having me in the family. My 'sibling,' Jacky, is from Martha's first husband. We are very close, especially after Patsy's death. She was Jacky's brother, but she died from a seizure.

Martha's text says, have fun in Debate and History! Good luck at college!

I quickly reply, Thanks!

The other text is from my ex, Eliza. We were dating in High School, but we broke it off when she decided she wanted to go to Stanford to learn how to manage a small business. It was a mutual breakup, and we parted with no ill feeling. We simply didn't want the stress associated with being in a long-distance relationship. Her text said, Have fun in Debate!

I quickly replied I can't wait!

* * *

Skip to Debate Class (about 40 minutes later):

As I walk into the classroom, the first thing I see is the desks. I inwardly groan, I thought I left desks behind at with high school. The next thing I notice is that they're facing each other so that two people could debate while facing each other. I see two of the guys I remember from the meeting, John Laurens, and long-named Lafayette. Finally, I realized that the only empty seat was across from a man with black hair and grey eyes.

"Hello, my name is Mr. Brown. I am the debate teacher here at Princeton and an experienced debater." He walks around the desks, placing papers on each one. "This is your course syllabus. Please make sure to read it between the end of this class and the start of the next one, but not during this class." He continues his spiel about regulations and guidelines for a little bit longer. I try to pay attention but fail miserably.

"Now, introduce yourself to your partner," Says Mr. Brown.

"Hi, I'm Alexander Hamilton. What's your name?" I ask, looking over to my partner.

"Charles, Charles Lee," says the black-haired man. I smile at him, but his frown stops me. "We're adversaries, so don't be too kind and definitely don't go easy on me."

"Trust me when I say that is not very likely."

"If you're all done, let's get to the debating," says Mr. Brown. We all smile, more than ready for the debating. "First of all, the pro-side is the side facing the door and the con-side is the side facing that wall. You are going to speak in turns, with the proposition going first and then the opposition, for three minutes each. Then, opposition rebuts before the proposition. Each rebutting speech is one minute. You have half an hour to prepare your speeches. Your topic is simple: School uniforms benefit students. You do not need to provide evidence, simply assertions backed up with reasoning. Good luck."

Charles is sitting facing the door, so I am the opposition. I think about what I know about school uniforms. They are generally disliked by students, I also know they stop self-expression among students. I think they also force students to choose a gender, embarrassing students who can't choose a gender or believe they belong in both… I think I can build on that enough to make a good case.

I begin to write, forcing letters onto the page of my paper in front of me. As I write, I lose myself in the writing. When the thirty-minute timer goes off, I jump out of my seat. Charles looks up and gathers the beginning of his speech. I grab a blank piece of paper to take notes.

"In an increasing number of schools worldwide, students are wearing uniforms. There are many benefits to uniforms in student life, including encouraging discipline and respect and reducing peer pressure. School uniforms promote discipline because students who are allowed to wear what they want tend to think that rules don't apply to them because the rules aren't as strict. Enforcing a uniform policy shows them how wrong they are. Uniforms are easier to enforce than dress codes. This saves irreplaceable class time. Wearing uniforms enhances school pride, unity, and community spirit." Charles looked around when he was talking, using his hand and face to show his emotion. He continued to talk for about two more minutes until his time was up. Then, I got up.

"There are many reasons why school uniforms aren't as good as everyone seems to think. School uniforms force students to wear gender-specific clothing. They also make it harder for students to express themselves. Students also do not like uniforms. Some girls would rather wear trousers than skirts and tights, and schools are not accepting their want for their choice of uniform. Just because a girl isn't 'girl like' enough, or a boy isn't 'boy like' enough, doesn't mean we should discriminate against them. Every boy and every girl should be proud of who they are and how they express themselves no matter what anybody else says. When school uniforms are put in place students have a hard time expressing themselves through their own clothing and accessories. The First Amendment of the US Constitution guarantees that all individuals have the right to express themselves freely. With school uniforms, this amendment is no longer set in stone." I continued on about how students don't like school uniforms until the end of my time. My voice was passionate and engaging, especially during the parts of transgender people. I have some friends who are LGBT+, so I support it.

Then, it was time for rebuttals. I knew what I was going to say, and I knew how I was going to say it.

"First, I'd like to go over my opponent's claim that uniforms promote respect. This is untrue, the students who are disrespectful are probably going to be even less respectful if they have to wear a uniform." I continue to destroy Charles' arguments until my minute is up. When he stands up, I tense before relaxing. I know I have him beat, I have destroyed all but one of his arguments.

"My opponent claims school uniforms, force gender conformity, but he says this as if it is a bad thing. To be honest, choosing a gender and sticking with can't be that hard," starts Charles. I grow and stand up from my seat. How could anyone disregard a group of people, saying they were different simply because they couldn't choose a gender? It was a disgrace.

I draw my fist back, ready to show this idiot what I thought about his response. As I let it fly forward, I feel a rush of satisfaction in knowing that he would feel an immense amount of pain when my knuckles collided with his cheek. As I rammed my fist into him, I hear Mr. Brown call out.

"Mr. Hamilton, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Teaching this transphobic idiot a lesson," I replied.

"Mr. Hamilton, see me after class. Everyone else, get back to debating, the Pro still has time to rebut."

* * *

 **I hoped you guys liked the start of my newest story! I'll see you soon with chapter two, but first, a question from Thomas!**

 **QOTC: What's your favorite color? Is it magenta? Please say it is!**

 **~Samuel Seabury**


	2. Meeting People

Hey guys! Please note that I do not own Hamilton. Lin owns Hamilton! If I owned Hamilton, I wouldn't be on writing a Hamilton fanfic.

Also, thanks to my great beta reader: Snowcrystal of Thunderclan!

* * *

The rest of the class passes almost lazily until it's time to go. Well, for everyone else. I may not get very nervous, but I certainly am not excited for the end of class. I also don't get to engage in the next debate because Lee was at the clinic. Instead, I watch some of the others. John Laurens is against Lafayette. Both are relatively good debaters, but if I were judging, I would have chosen Lafayette as the winner. His points flowed more, while John's seemed good but all over the place.

At the end of class, I pretend to pack up my books as I wait for everyone to leave. Thomas stops by my desk as I wait for everyone to go.

"Hey Alexander," he says. "You really showed that guy, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," I reply dejectedly. He wasn't helping my mood by trying to tell me what I did was a good idea. I knew what the consequences of my actions might be, but I still punched Charles Lee. Thomas' attempts to cheer me up aren't working.

I look around and notice everyone else has left the classroom. "Thomas, I hate to say this, but can you go? I don't want anyone around for this."

"Okay," he says. I notice his pained expression but I don't say anything. I know what opening my mouth at the wrong time can do.

"Professor Brown, sir." I address the teacher.

"Alexander Hamilton," he returns. "What should I do with you? Hitting a fellow student, even provoked, is not acceptable. Now, you may have heard that college doesn't have detention. That means that students with errors for misconduct either gets a mark on their record or suspension. The suspension comes with a mark. If you don't want suspension or expulsion, defend yourself and your actions."

"Sir," I say. I gather my thoughts for a second before continuing. "I support LGBT+ rights. I believe that all people should be accepted. Mr. Lee told me he thinks transgender people should not be accepted. I disagree. I know that striking him was not the best way to show my disagreement, but I do disagree."

"Well Alexander, I can assure you that I agree with your assessment of the situation, particularly the part saying striking our is not the best way to show your disagreement," says Mr. Brown. "However, that does not excuse the fact that you have hit another student. For that reason, I must give you one strike. If you misbehave twice more, you shall be sent home."

"Thank you, sir," I reply. He nods his head as an acceptance and a dismissal. Quickly, I leave the room, holding my books. As I make my way back to my dorm, I see John Laurens and Lafayette. They are walking with Hercules Mulligan.

"Nice job debating," I call out to John and Lafayette. They smile and walk towards me.

"This is the man whom I was talking about, Alexander Hamilton. He punched Charles Lee in the face," whispers John. I smile at his comment, much like the stereotypical college student, John is ready for a fight.

"Thanks, Alexander," replies Lafayette in response to my call. "Though, I am sure I lost."

"I quite disagree," says John with a smile. "You totally had me."

"Stop them or they'll never stop," whispers Hercules. I nod and smile. I bet their self-deprecating natures can be endearing but that they can probably also be annoying.

"I, for one, agree with John," I say. "Lafayette's points were more organized than John's."

"Thanks," says Lafayette. He looks down at his shoes, blushing. John simply smiles, and if he's upset, he doesn't show it.

"You don't take debate, do you?" I ask Hercules.

"No, I'm a Costume and Set Design major," replies Hercules.

I check the time and realize that I have journalism in a few minutes. I tell the others. "I've got to go, I have journalism in a few."

"Okay, but first can you put your number on my phone?" asks John. I nod. He holds it out to me. I take it and type in my number. John adds my contact. "Do you want to be in a group chat with the three of us?" I nod again and he adds me to it. "See ya, Alexander."

Bye," says Hercules at the same time as Lafayette. I smile while John smirks at them. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, like the two of them are a couple. I doubt they are, but I feel my matchmaker side kicking in.

"Bye guys," I say. "See ya around."

I turn and start walking to my Journalism class. When I get there, I see benches facing the teacher. This is more like what I expect for a college class. I walk and sit down in the second row, next to a pale-haired boy.

"Hi, my name is Alexander. Alexander Hamilton," I say. I turn to face him and look him in the eye.

"Hi, I'm Aaron Burr," he responds.

"What's your major?" I ask.

"Law. You?" He replies.

"I'm also a Law student. I'm minoring in Creative Writing," I say. We look at each other then switch our gaze to the floor. Neither of us knows what to say. Just when the silence gets long enough to be awkward, the professor walks in. I turn to face the front of the classroom and grab my pen and paper for notes.

The class continues as a normal college class. Mainly just a lecture, but about rules and regulations. The teacher hands out syllabuses. I place mine under my notes and continue to take notes.

Class ends relatively quickly. Aaron Burr, the guy I was sitting next to, walks up to me.

"Hi," I say good-naturedly. He looks at me and smiles just a bit.

"Hello. Do you want to compare notes?" He asks.

"Sure," I say with a smile. No one had asked me to compare notes before. To be honest, I doubt that anyone at my old schools had ever taken notes, let alone be bothered to compare them. They would have tried to memorize the material on their own. Well, I guess that's why I'm here and they aren't. I forget all about my question.

"So, where do you want to do this?" asks Aaron.

"Umm, the library? I hear most students study there," I say. He nods. "Do you know where the library is?"

"Not really, no," replies Aaron. I pull out my map with a sigh and scan the map for the closest library. **(This is Princeton, it's got to have more than one library.)** I find it, only a few corridors away.

"This way," I say with a smile. He smiles back at me. We walk the halls for about five minutes until we arrive at Monroe Library. They tend to name important places, like libraries, after important people. Aaron walks in front of me and holds the door open for me. I nod in thanks. He smiles and leads the way.

I look around the library. I see a small section with computers and another section with tables. There are a few open ones. There are also books. Tons of books. I can see a whole section on the law. I hope I can check some out, but I don't know how. I think I'll ask the librarian after I compare notes with Aaron.

He leads us over to a deserted table. I'm surprised there aren't more people studying, you know, on the first day of college. I'm glad my teachers gave us work, including an article for journalism. I got out my notes and showed them to Aaron. He got his paper out. I blushed as I saw his neat handwriting, not cursive, but nice compared to my messy scrawl. **(I know that Hamilton's handwriting was actually relatively good, but for goodness sakes, this is a fanfiction. Who cares?)**

I start to read his notes, and he does the same with mine. They are generally the same until I get about halfway done with the first page. His notes say that Benjamin Harris was the first journalist in America. That's the same as mine, but then his paper says that he published "Publick Occurrences, Both Foreign and Domestic" in 1690, while mine says 1693.

"Hey, I think one of us got the date wrong about Benjamin Harris' work. Your notes say 1690, but mine say 1693," I say. He nods and looks up at me. I smile tentatively.

"Here, let's go check online," replies Aaron.

We walk over to a computer. He sits down in front of it and I pull another chair up to watch. He types in some stuff and gets to google. To be honest, I have no idea how he did it, but he did. I know there is a good reason as to why I only use my laptop. Aaron types some more until he gets the screen to say 'Benjamin Harris published Publick Occurrences, Both Foreign and Domestic was published in 1960'.

I smile and say, "You were right."

He nods, and I continue smiling. He knows he is right, but he doesn't brag about it or tease me. Aaron seems so unemotional. To be honest, I'm slightly jealous. I have often been told I need to control my emotions. Here, Aaron does it with what looks like ease, but I guess that's the point. Still, I'm jealous.

He looks at me and awkwardly nods to our table. I follow him back and continue looking at our table. It's an awkward situation, but after a minute I relax and Aaron follows suit. The rest of the time goes pretty quickly with each of us reviewing the others and before I know it, I'm done and going to leave.

"I hope we can do something like this again," I say. He nods and smiles. "When do you have journalism next?" I ask.

"Friday," he responds. He doesn't seem to talk much, but he also puts up with my talking.

"Me too!" I exclaim. "Do you want to study after class again?"

"Sure."

After that meeting, I go and talk to the librarian. I end up checking out two books. He is quite nice about it, too.

I carry the books underneath my arm until I get back to dorm 154. I slowly open the door and look around to see Thomas sitting on the couch. He has a laptop on his lap and he seems to be typing away. I walk to my bedroom and go over my notes for a little while. Then, at about 7:30, I hear a voice southern voice call out to me. Thomas. "Alexander."

"Yeah," I call back.

"Can you come here?" asks Thomas.

"Sure," I respond.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asks. I think about what I had eaten today and respond.

"Yeah, I had an energy bar for breakfast," I say aware of how pathetic it sounds, even to me.

"I'm making dinner," declares Thomas, not out of the blue, per say, but surprisingly.

"Um, okay." I'm confused, why is he obsessed with my eating habits all the sudden? Thomas then goes to the store, saying he needed to get stuff. I shrug and go back to my work. When he returns, he is carrying a bag in each hand. He has butter, cheese, and macaroni. I raise one eyebrow at him and he blushes.

"I like mac and cheese, don't judge me," he says defensively.

"Sorry," I say, looking down at the floor.

"It's fine," laughs Thomas. I laugh too, partly to cover up my embarrassment and partly because his laughter is contagious.

Thomas makes dinner. I offer to help, but he refuses.

"Alexander," he calls when he is done.

"Coming," I say. I walk out to the kitchen and see Thomas. There is also a large pot and two bowls. Thomas spoons some mac and cheese into each bowl.

We sit on opposite couches in the main room and make small talk about our day. I tell Thomas about talking to Lafayette, John, Hercules, and Aaron. In return, he tells me about the boy he debated, James Madison. It turns out James was also in his Literature class, which went well.

"So, what did Mr. Brown want to talk to you about?" Asks Thomas. I gather my thoughts and respond.

"He made me explain my actions, and I got off with only a strike," I say.

"Cool." We continue talking 'til we finish our food. Then, we go back to our old spots working on our papers. At around 10:45, I go to sleep.

* * *

 **So, that's Chapter 2! I hope y'all liked it! I have no idea when Chapter 3 will be out, so bear with me on the wait.**

 **QOTC from Aaron Burr: 'Just you wait' or 'Wait for it'?**


End file.
